The Unexpected Lessons Aerial Yoga Taught Me About Letting Go

Aerial yoga sounded like a whimsical escape when I first started, chance to float, stretch, and maybe even feel like a circus performer for an hour. I imagined myself gliding effortlessly through the air, suspended in soft silks, striking graceful poses with the ease of a seasoned yogi. What I didn’t anticipate was how this practice would become a mirror, reflecting both my physical limitations and mental barriers, and ultimately teaching me profound lessons about letting go.

The Physical Struggles: A Body in Transition

From the very first class, my body made it clear it wasn’t ready for the silks. My forearms burned with a soreness I hadn’t felt in years, protesting every moment I gripped the fabric to hoist myself up. I’d dangle for a few seconds, only for my arms to tremble and give out, sending me gently back to the floor. It was humbling. I’d always considered myself reasonably fit, but aerial yoga demanded a different kind of strength—one my body didn’t yet possess.

My core, too, felt like it was betraying me. Movements that required engaging my midsection to lift my legs or invert my body were anything but graceful. I flopped awkwardly, my legs tangling in the silks as I tried to mimic the instructor’s fluid transitions. I remembered a time when my body felt stronger, more capable, and the contrast stung. Each class left me sore, frustrated, and acutely aware of how far I had to go.

The Mental Battle: Confronting Frustration and Ego

The physical challenges were only half the story. Aerial yoga stirred up mental hurdles I hadn’t expected. Struggling to accomplish poses that looked so simple in demonstrations was infuriating. I’d watch others in class—some beginners like me, others more experienced—move with a confidence I couldn’t muster. My mind spiraled: Why can’t I do this? What’s wrong with me? My ego, bruised from failure, urged me to push harder, to force my body into submission.

But aerial yoga doesn’t reward force. The silks demand patience, trust, and a willingness to release control. Every time I gripped the fabric too tightly or overthought a movement, I’d lose my balance or tire myself out. The harder I tried to make it work, the more I floundered. It was a mental tug-of-war—my desire to succeed clashing with the reality of my limitations.

A Pivot to the Hammock: Finding Progress in Patience

After a few weeks of battling the silks, I decided to take a step back. My instructor suggested switching to the hammock, a wider, more supportive fabric that felt less intimidating. At first, it felt like admitting defeat. I wanted to conquer the silks, not “settle” for something easier. But the hammock offered a gentler learning curve, allowing me to focus on building strength and confidence without the constant fear of falling.

In the hammock, I began to notice small victories. My forearms still ached, but I could hold myself up a little longer each time. My core started to engage more reliably, helping me move through poses with a hint of the grace I’d been chasing. The hammock gave me space to experiment, to play, and to rebuild trust in my body. It was a reminder that progress doesn’t always look like charging forward, sometimes it’s about stepping sideways, giving yourself grace to grow at your own pace.

Returning to the Silks: A New Perspective

When I eventually returned to the silks, I approached them differently. I wasn’t as fixated on nailing every pose or comparing myself to others. I focused on the process how it felt to move, to breathe, to trust the fabric to hold me. My forearms were stronger now, my core more cooperative. I still wobbled, but the wobbles felt less like failures and more like part of the dance.

The biggest shift, though, was mental. Aerial yoga taught me to let go of my need to control the outcome. I learned to release my grip on perfectionism, to laugh when I fell, and to celebrate the tiny milestones—like holding an inversion for a few extra seconds or transitioning between poses without flailing. I began to see struggle not as a sign of weakness, but as evidence of growth.

The Unexpected Gift of Letting Go

Aerial yoga didn’t just strengthen my body; it reshaped my relationship with myself. The soreness in my forearms, the weakness in my core, the frustration of falling short, they weren’t obstacles to overcome but teachers guiding me toward patience and self-compassion. By letting go of my expectations, I found freedom in the process. I learned to trust my body, to embrace imperfection, and to find joy in the messy, beautiful journey of becoming.

As I continue to practice, I carry these lessons with me. Aerial yoga has become more than a workout, it’s a practice of surrender, a reminder that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is let go and trust the process. And in that surrender, I’ve found a strength I never knew I had.